Saturday, November 12, 2005



Well, after about three or four hours of fitful sleep, my body decided I should be wide awake, oh, 5-ish. This is all fine and dandy for people like Ann, who get UP at sparrowfart most days, however for for those of us who don't actually go to bed before Mickey's big hand and Mickey's little hand are both on the 12 (and often long after), this was unwelcome.

A combination of stress, illness (I still can't shake the last of this cold), loud purring cats, flailing child and pain in my hand made it impossible to go back to sleep. Finally just after six I gave up the ghost and staggered out of bed to make coffee.

"Fine," I thought, semi-brightly, "I'll just do a few more rounds on that hat and see if I can't get it finished up before bedtime."

I realized that despite years of practice, I don't function quite as well as I used to on less than four hours of sleep, when I found myself earnestly explaining to Tigger that he couldn't get on my knee, because I was on a decrease row and had to count my stitches.

I'm pretty sure he didn't care.

He's on my knee.

It really is something biological about cats that they find your lap at the most inopportune times. I know that both my cats wait on the sidelines and read my mind until I'm ready to get up for more coffee.
I can see that even though you talk tough, you are really a big softie, and your cats know it.
Hopin' you feel better soon, dear. The cat's just trying to get you to stay in one spot, and maybe you'll fall asleep...
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